


leap day

by ont



Series: mockingbird [5]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Arguments, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Emotional Baggage, Exes, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Mild Post-partum Depression, Mpreg, New Parents, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Post Mpreg, body issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-12 21:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7950337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ont/pseuds/ont
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Lauren has begun swishing her wine around in its glass the way Liam had been stirring his drink. This dinner is beginning to feel like a rather tense work meeting between Louis and Simon that they've inexplicably dragged their significant others to.</i>
</p><p>Simon meets with Louis and Liam after they take their relationship public at the Brits. Zayn and Louis work on co-parenting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	leap day

**Author's Note:**

> pssst I've got like 40k of zayn pov coming VERY soon, just wanted to throw this up because it's been done for like a month lmao

LONDON, FEBRUARY 29, 2016

Louis lies in bed half-dressed, watching Liam grow more and more flustered as he tries to pick out clothes.

“What's appropriate?” he yells from the depths of Louis’ walk-in closet.

“Clothes,” Louis calls back. “Just… any clothes whatsoever, mate.”

“I don't wanna dress down too much.”

“You won't be…”

On the bed next to Louis, Mia burbles and kicks her feet. Louis kisses her on the side of her head.

“It's not a big deal, really,” Louis says softly.

“What?”

Liam returns to the bedroom, looking to Louis with questioning eyebrows, wearing only a white dress shirt and black boxers.

“It's not a big deal, I said,” Louis says, clearing his throat. The baby was especially fussy the night before, not giving them any longer than an hour of uninterrupted sleep before she began bawling again. These nights seem to hit Louis harder than they do Liam, which he has difficulty not being resentful over. He knows he still hasn't recovered from OTRA, or from giving birth, even as badly as he wants his old energy and spirit and body back.

“We don't even know what he wants,” Liam murmurs. He looks young, suddenly. Louis beckons him close and kisses him on the forehead.

“Wear that shirt with jeans.”

“Alright,” Liam says agreeably, reaching down and tickling Mia before returning to the closet. Louis lies back against the bed and sighs.

Liam returns to him, in a nice pair of dark wash jeans that do a good job of cupping his arse. He runs a hand through Louis’ hair and settles down beside him, so Mia is between them.

“We haven't got to go,” he says, looking at Louis from under his eyelashes.

“Yes we do,” Louis replies immediately. “I mean -- I want to, is what I mean.”

He rolls off of the bed and moves to the closet, dressing quickly in a loose-fitting black tee and black skinnies. He's been wearing nothing but black and navy for weeks, trying to slim himself visually. He finds himself at an awkward in-between where his old jeans don't fit him, but neither do the ones he wore when he was pregnant.

“I'm ready,” Louis calls.

Liam carries the baby downstairs to a waiting Jay and Lottie, the latter of whom takes her with excitement and begins to coo to her.

“I don't like this,” Jay confides to Louis in the hall, as he laces up his trainers and she hovers over him. “He should leave you be right now. You don't need to talk about work. You've got so much going on.”

“I'd like to go back to work at some point, mum,” he says quietly, casting a glance over his shoulder. Liam is happily engaged in conversation with Lottie in the sitting room, not paying him any mind.

“Not _soon_ ,” Jay says, hands on her hips.

“By the end of the year,” Louis says, straightening up. “So I need to lay the groundwork.”

“Oh, love,” Jay moans. “He'll bleed you dry, that man. And you're vulnerable right now.”

He plays dumb. “Vulnerable?”

“This custody nonsense with Zayn --”

“No nonsense with Zayn,” he says lightly. “He took her this past weekend. Brought her back on Sunday… No tattoos on her, as far as I saw. Was even halfway civil to me when we talked.”

Jay sighs. “I worry about you.”

“I've got Liam.”

“That you do,” she concedes. “I wasn't expecting him to be so eager about this, and so ready for it. It's not every man who would be.”

“Zayn ain't even been, and it's his baby,” Louis mutters. He throbs with hurt as soon as he says it; it’s a verbal flog to his own soft spots.

She puts her hands up. “He’s making it up to you, love, so let him.”

“No, I am. I am,” Louis says, already regretting what he said. “But you've got to let me -- you say I'm vulnerable, and maybe that's true, but work helps. Havin’ -- I dunno. Somewhere to go, something to do. Not right now, not immediately, but…”

“It's normal to feel overwhelmed,” Jay whispers. “I promise. A baby turns your world upside down, it really does. Especially when you're young and didn’t plan it.”

She hugs him. He strokes her hair, lost in thought.

Liam approaches so quietly they don't hear him and wraps his arms around both of them. “Tommos,” he says fondly.

“You're in a good mood,” Jay says to him, smiling.

“I am,” Liam affirms. He strokes Louis’ back. “Nice to have a night to ourselves.”

Louis waves to Lottie on their way out the door; he doesn't want to go say goodbye to Mia. The physical act of leaving her is still hard, and his best bet is to pawn her off on someone and flee before his parental instincts get the chance to kick in.

In the car, Liam bounces his leg with anxiety. Louis reaches out and stills him five minutes into their drive, lest he be driven crazy by it.

“Sorry,” Liam says immediately.

“No worries.”

Liam glances at him, his lips parted like he wants to speak, but his expression apprehensive. Louis waits patiently.

“Are you in a stroppy at me still?” Liam says. “Over me yelling at Zayn --”

“No, no,” Louis answers immediately. He slides closer to Liam on the seat and leans into the warm weight of him. Liam's arm immediately wraps around his shoulders.

“I don't want to make things harder between you and him, I promise.”

“That's sort of inevitable,” Louis murmurs. “But things’ll get better between us. And I don't think we’ll ‘ave to revisit this custody scrap.”

“You're sure?”

Louis shrugs. “I feel like it'll be alright, now. When I saw him the other day... I dunno. Felt, like, tentatively civil.”

He buries his face in Liam's dress shirt.

“I miss the baby,” he says.

Zayn taking her was hell on him, as much as he wanted it to happen and was grateful for the break in parenting. He didn't get the things out of it that he thought he would; his sleep was still interrupted, because he woke every hour thinking he needed to check on her, and when he remembered she was gone he felt a yawning emptiness in his gut.

Louis didn't like the silence of the house, either. He spent a lot of the weekend wandering around, not his usual self, making no jokes and talking little. He realizes now that it's completely understandable for Liam to have thought he was still angry.

“Just a few hours,” Liam says, kissing his head.

“The weekend was tough,” Louis murmurs. “I didn't think it'd be _that_ hard. I dunno, it sort of feels like she's still part of my body, like someone's got my heart out of my chest and keeps walking away with it.”

“Zayn did a good job,” Liam says, squeezing his shoulders. “He's good with her, I think.”

“He is,” Louis agrees. “No, it's a huge relief knowin’ that, don't get me wrong.”

“You didn't answer earlier, what do you think Simon wants?”

“Hmm,” Louis intones. “Have a go at me for havin’ her, to put my balls in the vice. Have a go at us both about coming clean on our relationship, to put _your_ balls in the vice. Give me some unwelcome parenting advice. Ask you about your solo plans for the sixtieth time. Ask me about my solo plans, be told yet again I don't have any, so ‘e gives me shit about havin’ a baby again, and tells me that my baby daddy is an arsehole, then asks me to do something for him.”

Liam laughs. “Sounds about right.”

“Aye, well, we’ll get through it.”

 

*

 

Lauren and Simon are very warm to them when they enter the restaurant and sit down; almost too warm, Louis thinks, knowing Simon must be angry that he and Liam have created yet another PR snafu.

“How are you feeling?” Lauren says to Louis after the wine list has been passed around, with the sympathetic tone of someone who's also had a baby.

Louis smiles on autopilot. “Good. Great.”

“I'm sure they're both exhausted,” Simon says, glancing over his menu. “But they're tough. Aren't you, boys?”

“Reasonably so,” Liam says in his diplomatic voice, glancing at Louis.

“Sam told me what you said, at Sheffield,” Louis tells Simon.

Simon doesn't look up from his menu, but his grip on it shifts and his lips tilt up slightly. “Good,” he says. “I was glad to see I was right.”

“What are we talking about?” Lauren says, sipping her water.

Louis glances around the restaurant. It's modern in design, cozily lit, and nearly empty. There are large glass windows behind them, which he and Liam made note of when they drove up. Clearly, this is an outing designed to be papped. Louis remarked in the car that he's surprised Simon didn't request he wear Mia in a sling and hold a sign that said 'BUY MITAM ON ITUNES', which Liam had let out a sort of choked laugh in response to.

“I said to their tour manager a while back that Louis was the only one of them I think would actually be capable of finishing a world tour while pregnant,” Simon says. “And I was right. Obviously.”

Liam looks down and gnaws at his lip. Louis knows he would agree with this general sentiment, but the phrasing appears to bother him somewhat. Under the table, he reaches over and squeezes Liam's knee.

“Well, we’ll never know about anyone else, will we?” Louis says curtly.

“Thank God,” Simon mutters.

This lands heavily on the table. Lauren rescues the mood by inquiring about Mia’s milestones, although the conversation is short due to the fact that she's barely two months old and doesn't do much except make them happy and keep them up at night. The alcohol comes; Liam is delivered his cocktail and stares into it while dragging his stirrer in agitated circles.

“So, Louis,” Simon says, clasping his hands. “I know X-Factor didn't work out like we'd hoped, but I'd like to bring you on guest judges week for Talent.”

Louis and Liam share a brief glance, wordlessly remarking to each other that Simon is moving along exactly as predicted.

“Shit,” Louis says, surprised. “Yeah, I'm -- that’d be a good gig, I think, thank you.”

“We can push the baby angle a bit,” Simon says. “I'll stack your episode with kiddos.”

Louis restrains his frustration. He wants to work, and that's more valuable to him than pestering Simon for an acknowledgement that his entire personality and work history has not been swallowed up by the baby he had.

“Fantastic,” he says. “Looking forward to it.”

Lauren has begun swishing her wine around in its glass the way Liam had been stirring his drink. This dinner is beginning to feel like a rather tense work meeting between Louis and Simon that they've inexplicably dragged their significant others to.

Liam anxiously butters a piece of bread, then offers the basket to Louis. Louis stares at it like it's a bowl of arsenic and shakes his head.

“Liam,” Simon says.

Liam sets the basket down and looks up at him with a game expression. “‘Sup?”

“What are your plans?”

“Um,” Liam says, and looks to Louis as if Simon is inquiring as to his intentions with the former. “With -- what about?”

“Professionally.”

“Keep producing,” Liam says. His leg begins to bounce again. “Some solo projects. Um… I don't know. I rather like production.”

“I wonder,” Simon says, steepling his fingers, “if you two mightn't have done some damage to both of your reputations.”

“Christ, here he goes,” Louis says, tossing his napkin onto his plate, his heart speeding up from fear and anger. Everyone looks at him in surprise.

“It's not a far-fetched idea,” Simon says, speaking directly to him. “You've seen the press lately, you're getting absolutely hammered.”

“Been trying to ignore all that, actually,” Louis says, looking back at him with a steely expression.

Simon sighs. “Lauren, love, go show Liam the fish, would you?”

“Of course!” Lauren says, her chair scraping as she gets up with a magnanimous smile. “Liam, they raise their own swordfish here, isn't that neat?”

“Nice! I'll have to order that, then,” Liam says cheerfully, getting up as well. Both somehow made more poised and graceful by the awkwardness of the situation, they all but glide through the low, romantic lighting of the restaurant over to a large fish tank on the back wall, leaving Simon and Louis to look unhappily at each other.

“I don't need this right now,” Louis whispers. “You know I don't.”

“Oh, Louis,” Simon says crossly, as if he's the one who's been offended. “I just want so much for you. Do you think -- Zayn was always just being propped up from one tour to the next, never really wanted to play ball, wasn't even canny enough to cheat on Edwards discreetly. I never thought we'd be able to do much with _him_. You, on the other hand --”

“Please don't talk about the father of my child like that,” Louis says, pained. “For the love of God.”

“Louis…”

Simon puts his hands on the table and looks up at the ceiling.

“I just wish you hadn't tied yourself to him,” he says. “This is going to be a difficult row to hoe, for your reps. The rest of your life, you or your daughter will be a line in every article about him. I thought it was bad enough when you two had that fucking marijuana video come out. That was a dream compared to this.”

“Having his baby’s the choice I made,” Louis snaps. “That is so far over and done with, now.”

Simon seems to ignore him. “I'm glad you picked Liam,” he says. “That was a good move. Glad you didn't try to work things out with Zayn, at least. That gives you some distance.”

Louis is overcome with many difficult feelings. He sucks in a long breath.

“I didn’t _plan_ to fall in love with Liam. Wasn't a _tactic_. Look, I don't want to talk about this with you,” he says. His face feels hot. He has several sips of wine.

“Neither do I, I apologize. I wanted to talk with you about next moves.”

“What next moves?” Louis says, hedging. He wants Simon’s guidance, but finds himself so upset by his comments that he's growing contrarian. “Other than AGT, which I do appreciate, thanks -- what is there to discuss right at the moment? I've got a seven-week-old baby at home.”

“You and I both know you're already planning what's next,” Simon says, arching an eyebrow. “If you want to play dumb with me, I'll take that to mean I won't be privy to whatever it is. Which would be a mistake, because I can help you, and what's more, I very much want to help you. And regardless of what your feelings toward me are right now, I'm the devil you know, aren't I?”

“Simon,” Louis says slowly, boiling with restrained anger. “You didn't do right by me, this past year.”

“In what way?”

“You were awful!” Louis exclaims. A waiter who's walking toward them slows, makes a panicked grimace, then turns around and walks away. “You -- I was pregnant and alone and twenty-three, doing the hardest thing I've ever done, well into year five of your fucking experiment in working us to our bones and squeezing us dry, and you talked to me like I was some monstrous slutty idiot!”

Simon nods thoughtfully throughout his entire outburst. This makes Louis want to take him out front and have a good old-fashioned bout with him. He isn't exactly in fighting shape, but then, neither is Simon.

“I acknowledge,” Simon says, “that I shouldn't have been so hard on you. For good or for bad, you made your decision, and once that became clear I should have stood by you more and gave you less shit over it.”

“I agree!”

“It's difficult for me, Louis,” Simon says, sloshing his wine around and then drinking some. “I see a lot of myself in you. What happened was just… inevitably a disappointment, even if just because of the timing and the narrative it invoked.”

“You made the same damn mistake I did,” Louis hisses, indicating Lauren’s back with a jab of his thumb. “You had bad timing and a shit narrative too. It's just _you_ can't get pregnant, beta man, so you caught less flak.”

“What do you _want_?” Simon says, leaning forward with that frightening gravitas of his. Louis stares him down, uncowed. “What do you want in your bloody life, Louis Tomlinson? I will help you get it. I don't care if you're constantly knocked up by various men for the entire next decade. I want to help you be the power player I know you can be.”

“I want to manage,” Louis says softly. “I want to help talented kids, like I did with Michael and them. I want to find those kids and give them a chance on their dreams. And protect them, make sure they're lawyered up, make sure they know what they're gettin’ into.”

“Noble of you,” Simon says. “Then let me help you do that.”

“Okay,” Louis murmurs, swallowing. “I’d appreciate it.”

Simon looks at him with uncommon sympathy. “You alright, in general?”

Louis’ eyes well up for a brief second. He blinks it back. “Yeah,” he answers. “Really, I am.”

“Good.”

Simon catches Lauren’s eye and beckons her back. She's been in quiet conversation with Liam this entire time, as they pretend to be engrossed by five swordfish swimming around. Louis wonders what they were talking about.

“There are some ways you can spin this,” Simon says to both Liam and Louis.

Liam wraps an arm around Louis’ shoulders and pulls him close.

“We know,” he says. “Reps are on it.”

“You could really throw Zayn under the bus,” Simon says. “Those pap photos from outside the courthouse are telling. He looks angry and out of control. You could spin a narrative around the custody battle with a well-phrased leak, instead of continuing to ignore the stories about it.”

Liam looks like he's in pain.

“We don't want to throw Zayn under the bus,” he says softly, and Louis affirms this with a little shake of his head.

“You do know what they're saying,” Simon says more forcefully, planting his elbows on the table and leaning forward. Louis shifts in his seat.

“That I'm a homewrecker, an opportunist, a baby thief, desperate? That I'm -- sorry, Louis -- that I'm Captain Save-A-Hoe? That I was so fucked up by Sophia dumping me that I immediately climbed onto him so I could have a ready-made family?” Liam recites dutifully. “I do read, actually.”

Louis cringes internally at all this and the rawness with which Liam expresses it. Externally, he's poker-faced.

“Does any of that strike you as flattering?” Simon asks him.

“Darling,” Lauren gently rebukes. Simon turns to her and she tilts her head at him.

“What, do _you_ think it's flattering?” he says, with an airy sarcasm.

“I think these boys as a whole have worked very hard for a long time, are going through something terribly difficult right now amongst each other, that these two are taking care of a newborn and clearly exhausted, and that neither particularly benefit from you barking at them over dinner,” Lauren says, with an intent look.

“Speaking of, are we ever going to actually order dinner?” Louis says to no one in particular.

Simon beckons the waiter over so they can all request their various cuts of fish. Liam, true to his word, gets the swordfish.

Louis gets salmon, because it's lean and low-calorie, and because Lottie told him today that his Omega-3s have all been sucked out of him by Mia and need to be replenished.

“Well, that's rather impolite of her,” he had said humorously.

“I suppose she needed them,” Lottie said. “Although, one would think you need them as well?”

“That sounds like parenting in a nutshell.”

Simon leaves them alone for the remainder of dinner, allowing the conversation to be driven by friendly small-talk that Liam and Lauren provide the bulk of. Louis zones in and out, as he's been doing lately. It's as if his instincts are working to reroute an entire third of his brainpower to his baby at all times. He's foggy when she isn't near him.

He has three glasses of wine, because he can and because he was deprived of alcohol for so long. Liam looks at him out of the corner of his eye when he orders the third, but says nothing.

Louis wonders if Zayn is out drinking tonight. He wonders if he'll see the photos of this ridiculous dinner and be made angry by them, by Liam's arm around his shoulders and the staid maturity of it all. It looks great: double date, eating salmon and drinking wine by candlelight, talking shop. Their discomfort can't be photographed. 

All Louis wants to do is go home and hold his baby. It becomes an anxious, frantic mantra in his head as he struggles to pay attention to Simon’s new tangent about Sony’s latest endeavors in talent scouting.

It's a massive relief to him when the evening draws to a close and Simon and Lauren send them on their way. Simon claps him hard on the back; Lauren hugs him for an extra second and whispers in his ear, “I know how you feel right now, I promise you won't feel like this forever.” He's so grateful to her for this that he squeezes her even harder and whispers back, “I like you a lot better than your husband, you know that?” which makes her chuckle.

 

*

 

In the car, Liam tries to jolly him, taking his phone from him and playing song after song from his good vibes playlist. He leans listlessly against Liam, smiling when something particularly good comes on but mostly just staring into space and letting his mind wander.

Ten or so minutes from home, Liam prods him and says “suhh dude” in a terrible American accent. Louis laughs.

“Nothing,” he murmurs.

“It's weird when you're quiet,” Liam says. “I don't like it.”

“I'm thinking…”

“About what?”

Louis shakes his head and holds onto Liam's arm tighter.

“I love you,” he says. “Captain Save-A-Hoe…”

Liam tenses. “Louis… that isn't fair to either of us.”

“The truth hurts,” Louis says lightly. He knows he's just acting out, now. He doesn't really believe what he's saying. The raw sucking pit at the center of him needs conflict and self-pity, otherwise it threatens to swallow him whole.

“No, nasty lies from people who don't know us are what hurt,” Liam says sharply.

“Where's the lie? Saved a hoe, didn't you? I suppose I don't fit the strict definition… I am financially self-sufficient, after all. Just emotionally can't stand on me own.”

“You know that isn't true at all. You're tougher than I am.”

“Fuck, we're properly in trouble, then,” Louis intones.

“Louis…”

“What?” Louis snaps. “Why are you taking the bait if you don't want to play the game? Huh?”

Liam falls silent, stroking his shoulders. Louis feels terribly guilty.

He apologizes softly after a long minute. Liam pulls him closer.

“I love you too,” he whispers.

 

*

 

Jay greets them at the door and hands Mia back to Louis, who sags in relief and kisses her all over her head, then sets her over his shoulder. She hiccups in his ear, and his heart clenches with love.

“Thank you both,” he says to his mum and his sister, kissing them each on the cheek. “You're aces. I dunno what I'd do without you.”

“Have the nanny over,” Lottie says helpfully. Everyone laughs.

When they've seen his family off, they go about their nighttime routine; Mia goes down for the night with an unusual lack of fussing. Liam goes about his nighttime skincare routine while Louis watches the BBC in bed, his fingers itching to change it to TMZ. He's already gotten an email about the pap photos from tonight. He knows they'll merit coverage; after all, this has been TMZ’s story from the very beginning, from the day they paid fifty thousand dollars for the bloodwork that proved he was pregnant.

He resists. Louis knows their newsroom has become a form of passive self-harm for him.

He watches it and feels fine in the moment as he listens to them talk about him and Zayn and Liam, then he finds their words echo in his head as he grocery shops or works out, pounding with sick repetition until he's grinding his teeth and having cold sweats.

It bothers him more than any written tabloid story could, because Louis has an ear for voices -- it's vital to how he writes music -- and even weeks later he can perfectly recreate remarks made by Harvey or any of the rest of them in his head, pitch-perfect, identical to reality, as if they're whispering to him throughout the day.

“What's going on in the world?” Liam says to him as he climbs up in bed next to him, wearing nothing but briefs.

“It's leap day,” Louis murmurs. “Forgot it was leap day… also, ceasefire in Syria.”

“That's good,” Liam says, absent-mindedly rubbing Louis’ tense shoulders.

Louis claps the lights off and sinks to his side on the bed. Liam moves with him, spooning him as he continues to massage him. Louis lies there, comfortable but with one ear pricked for Mia’s soft breathing a few feet away.

Liam’s body language changes over the course of several minutes. His hands become more lackluster in their rubbing; he begins to move his hips against Louis. In his bleary state of mind it takes Louis thirty or so seconds to connect the dots. As soon as he does, he moves away from Liam, flattening himself against the bed, face-up. He breathes heavily for a moment.

Liam reaches out to him. “I'm sorry, I didn't --”

Louis just shakes his head. “I want to,” he says, his throat tight. “Or I want to want to. But…”

“It isn't -- I didn't mean --”

“Yes you did, Liam. I'm a bloke too, or did you forget? We've all done that little move, haven't we?”

Liam looks at him with guilty doe eyes. Louis looks away from him and at the ceiling, his body hot in an unpleasant way. It isn't the flush of arousal; he feels like a car that's overheated. Some used and broken-down machine that’s no longer operating properly.

“I miss you,” Liam says, mournful. “I miss being intimate with you. I'm sorry.”

“You don't get it,” Louis chokes out. “I do too, but I don't feel like _me_. I’m not _me_. I hardly feel like -- it's like my body isn't even me own, lately.”

“But it is, it is,” Liam says, his voice rising with anxiety.

“Don't,” Louis breathes, shaking his head. “You don't get it. You couldn't.”

“Take as much time as you like,” Liam says. “I'm sorry. I don't mean to… to be some horrible stereotype of an alpha.”

Louis reaches out and takes his hand silently.

“I'll blow you, if you like,” he mutters after a while. “You haven’t got to do anything for me, I got off this morning.”

“That isn't it at all, Louis,” Liam says, sounding wounded, coming closer again. “I didn't want just to get off, I wanted to be with you, feel you.”

“That's the thing,” Louis says. Liam retreats from him apologetically. “You're thinking about _you_ , not me. I've just -- it's been seven weeks, Liam! That entire area is -- I've just had stitches out the other week, I'm still in pain! Like --”

“But it isn't like you're a woman, it isn't the same place --”

Louis scoffs with anger, humiliated by even having to talk about this and terribly upset that Liam’s arguing with him about it.

“I miss you!” Liam cries. “I'm not allowed to miss you?”

“Talk to me about it, then, don't try to fuckin’ sneak up on me! Like I'll just say, oh, alright, and spread me legs for you?”

“I want to help you,” Liam says, his expression desperate and pleading. Louis stares at him in the dark. “It seemed to help, when -- like on tour, when you just needed to get out of your head, sex helped --”

“It isn't the _same_ now.”

“Well, and I'm realizing that, obviously!”

Louis’ throat is dry and he swallows, too tired to reach across to the table for water. “It's different than just getting each other off, you know? You being inside me -- it's mental too, I've got to feel good in my body, and like, a sexual person,” he says, “and I don't, and you know that --”

Liam leans forward on the bed in downward dog, but with his face in his hands, like he's bending in supplication.

“I always think you're sexy,” he says, his voice muffled.

Despite his exhaustion, Louis sits up. Mia stirs in her crib, and they both freeze for a moment, but nothing else comes of it.

“I know that,” Louis says, “Look, like I said, Payno.” He swallows again, this time over the lump in his throat. “It might take some time.”

Liam nods hard. “I realize that.”

“I love you,” Louis says. “I do. I want to want this, I just…”

He goes quiet and then flings his hands in the air, exasperated. Liam laughs and tackles him back against the bed, kissing his neck and then wrapping his arms around him and holding him close.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers.

“Don't be sorry,” Louis says, stroking up the back of his neck and moving his hair against the grain, ruffling it with his palm. “I know I was a brat earlier…”

“No, no… I mean, yeah,” Liam says, chuckling, his breath hot against Louis’ throat. “But I was expecting that, after a night of Simon.”

“D’you know what he said about Zayn?” Louis says softly. “That we _propped him up_ from tour to tour. Just totally discounted him as a person, and his talent, and how he was never suited for that life from the very start. It scared me, Payno. He's so mean if you cross him.”

It comes out as a warning. Liam is quiet for a moment. Louis knows he's been taking meetings with Capitol Records, but they haven't discussed it, yet. They sometimes hide behind the new baby, like she's so all-encompassing as to eclipse the rest of reality.

“Haven't you already?”

“No, I've disappointed him,” Louis murmurs. “Haven't crossed him.”

They lie there in the darkness. Louis is comforted by the weight of Liam, now that he knows sex is off the table.

“I shouldn't keep things so close to the chest,” Louis mutters. “This shit. I should tell you…”

“What else is there?” Liam says softly. He reaches up and trails his finger over Louis’ cheek and then his ear, then readjusts so he’s on his side, one arm wrapped around Louis’ chest.

Louis takes in a shaky breath. “Dunno… at the doctor the other day, she said Mims was still at the twenty-fifth percentile for weight…”

“I know, but that's just who she is, it's fine,” Liam says soothingly, stroking his chest. “We know that's nothing to worry about, she's been steady at the same percentile…”

“I just always remember what Zayn said,” Louis says, his jaw tight. “That I wore myself down when I was pregnant and she was born early and small. And he was right, wasn't he?”

“You and Zayn are small people, it's alright to have a small baby,” Liam murmurs. “She’s very healthy, and she was barely early, Tommo, please don't torture yourself like this.”

Louis places his hand overtop of Liam’s and squeezes it.

“I don't know why she was small,” Louis says, with a rueful laugh. “ _Is_ small. I dunno if it's because of genetics. I dunno if it's ‘cos I wore myself down on tour. I dunno if it's ‘cos I'm insecure and I got weird about food and I just… I don't fuckin’ know… and as awful as that last one is to think, I can't make myself stop bein’ insecure _now_ … I feel like a fucking crazy person. I probably am one. I'm sorry.”

“No,” Liam murmurs, burying his face against Louis’ neck. “No, you aren't.”

“When will you get tired of talkin’ me down like this?” Louis says, dread twisting up his throat and curdling in his chest. “When will it get old for you?”

“Never,” Liam says passionately. “Never. And… look, it'll get better. I don't know much about this, but I know the way you feel right now can't last forever. You're just worn out, Louis. That's all. It's been so much. It's been the worst year.”

Liam hesitates, then continues.

“If I were you,” he says, “I don't know what I'd even do. Honestly.”

“I am me and I dunno what I'm doing,” Louis says.

Liam laughs. It’s a nice sound.

“You're so good at saying the right thing,” Louis murmurs, moving closer to him. He presses his nose to Liam and inhales the smell of him. Liam strokes his hair away from his face. “You've been so, so good to me this past year. I don't know if I could ever thank you for all this.”

“Don't thank me, I love you,” Liam says, so earnestly that it pains Louis to hear.

Louis kisses him, not deep and not for very long. It would be cruel to get either one of them hard when he's too exhausted to do anything for Liam, whether it's responsive or reciprocal. He strokes his face and looks into his sweet dark eyes.

“Let’s just go to sleep,” Liam says, stroking his cheek and then pulling the covers up over himself.

Louis nods. He climbs up out of bed a final time and goes to check on Mia, who's sound asleep, her little hands raised above her head in tiny fists. He strokes her head and she makes a soft noise and kicks a leg, but doesn't wake.

Satisfied, he returns to the shelter of Liam’s arms.

“Simon’s got big plans for me,” he murmurs.

Liam lets out a breath.

“How d’you feel about that?” he whispers, holding Louis tighter.

“I really don't know,” Louis admits, and they fall into a comfortable silence.

 

LONDON, MARCH 4, 2016

Half an hour before Zayn is supposed to arrive, Liam quietly disappears downstairs to work out. Louis stands at the top of the steps to the basement holding his daughter, listening to the clink of weights on a barbell and Liam’s grunts of effort.

He wishes briefly and dearly that he had not made Liam and Zayn mortal enemies of each other -- for many reasons, but right now, selfishly, so that there would be someone else to pass Mia off to her father on Fridays, someone whose arms she did not feel preternaturally glued to.

Last Friday when Zayn had taken her she began to wail, catlike and deafeningly loud. He thinks it was because Zayn had refused to come past the threshold and had stood resolutely outside the house, so when Louis handed her over she simultaneously was leaving the arms of the person who birthed her and also being transitioned from the warm dark of the house to the cool bright February afternoon.

This would be enough to make any baby cry, but Louis couldn’t stand to hear it. He had said goodbye to Zayn as quickly as possible, which Zayn was fine with. Zayn’s anger continues to burn cold, like dry ice.

Since his petty disaster of an Instagram post, Louis has made a conscious effort to limit the public perception that Liam is Stepdad Extraordinaire. Anything he says about Mia is free of references to his boyfriend, any planted story from his PR makes no mention of him. Louis doesn’t go out in public with Liam, only with the baby.

At the Brits, not only had Zayn been a blacklisted topic, but he had blocked Liam from answering anything about Mia, taking all those questions himself. It led to a strangely stitched-together narrative he had to masterfully toe the seam of -- half of the loved-up new couple, and the happy new dad, too.

The fans have taken his cue and now talk less about the three of them, which he’s grateful for. The rags, though, seem annoyed by the pivot. Their recent articles have a tone of, _Hey boys, you’re not fooling anyone._ On Tuesday, TMZ had swiped at him again by posting an elaborate and smart-alecky timeline of his pregnancy, likely frustrated that clicks on stories about what a fickle whore he is have been dwindling.

It was complete with estimated conception date -- a week off, as no one knows she came early -- the date Zayn announced he was not returning, a reference to Zayn having been engaged to Pez at the time and a description of Louis as his mistress, and an increasingly off-base series of guesses as to when he and Liam got together, based on their on-stage behavior.

Their worst, most hurtful piece of speculation was the idea that maybe Louis had been sleeping with both of them at once, and the late paternity reveal was because he'd been waiting on an amnio to find out who the father was.

In anger, Louis tweeted, _Sad how people who know the least always think they know everything !_ and faced immediate mocking backlash from the worst of Zayn’s fans that did not subside until Zayn himself retweeted him and added _yeah @TMZ... you are pathetic_

 _Thanks_ , Louis texted him. Zayn did not respond for several hours and then said, _whatever happens between us in private i want to be on your side in public, for her sake_.

This made Louis feel at once relieved and guilty, and then full of grief that Zayn could not consistently be on his side in private, too.

When he's woken by the baby in the milky early hours of the day, Louis sometimes lies awake and wonders if Liam is truly on his side, or if loving him is such a large chunk of Liam’s ego right now, if Louis has become such a walking fallacy of sunk costs, that defending him has become for Liam essentially a defense of himself and his own complicity in Louis’ actions.

After all, it was Liam who questioned their decision to get together, who has cried over their mutual loss of Zayn, who gave Louis multiple opportunities to leave him and go be with the father of his unborn child, and it was Louis who stayed fixed on the path he was making for himself, slashing aside the underbrush with a machete.

The top of the hour draws nearer and Louis takes Mia into the sitting room, holding her to his chest as he taps at his phone one-handedly. He’s texting with Oli when Zayn rings him.

“I’m almost here,” Zayn says without a hello.

“Oh, alright,” Louis says, sitting up. “You’re early.”

“Yeah.”

Silence forms.

“She’s got a stuffy nose,” Louis says, sounding profoundly businesslike and hating it. “I’ve got nasal spray, if you need it.”

“Oh, thanks. I’ve got a humidifier beside her crib at my place, too...”

“Good,” Louis says softly.

“My mum told me it would be a good idea,” Zayn mutters. “Since it’s cold, wiv the heat runnin’ so high, and all that.”

Louis nods, before remembering he’s on the telephone. Mommy brain.

“See you soon, then,” he says aloud.

“Right,” Zayn says, and hangs up.

Mia snuffles against his shirt and he tips her more forward over his shoulder, cradling her head. She dutifully sneezes all over his back.

“Cheers,” he says with a smile. The shirt he's wearing is a disaster, anyway, she's spit up on it several times in the last two weeks alone.

He passes the next few minutes reading an email from Simon about the further details of his AGT appearance. He's doing some quick calculating in his head as to what pace his post-baby weight loss will continue at when the security console buzzes with the sound made by someone putting in the gate code.

Louis has set all of her things by the door and takes her to the carrier, settling her into it and doing the straps up. She looks up at him, and he smiles at her.

“You'll get used to this,” he murmurs. “Got eighteen years of it to go, Mims.”

She fusses and he quiets her. The doorbell rings.

Zayn is wearing mirrored sunglasses, despite the completely opaque gray sky. Louis wonders if he doesn’t want to make eye contact.

“Hey,” he says, passing over the carrier.

“Hi baby,” Zayn says to her, taking it and then setting it on the step and crouching next to it so he can greet her. She grips his index finger in one little hand, and he smiles.

Louis looks up and into middle distance, past their front garden and Zayn’s car, so he doesn't have an emotional reaction to this. “Anything you can think of I might've forgotten to pack?”

“I've got a lot at me house, now,” Zayn says softly, stroking Mia’s head. “Should be good. I'll call you, if not.”

“Alright.”

“I saw you had dinner with Simon,” Zayn says, straightening up. His security takes the cue to come forward and fetch Mia, carrying her to the car.

“Unfortunately,” Louis says, with a tiny smile. Zayn snorts.

“Did he mention me?”

Louis makes a conscious decision to spare him the truth. “No, mostly gave me and Liam a hard time all night.”

“Yeah?” Zayn says, sliding a finger under his sunglasses and rubbing at his eye. “Like to be a fly on that wall...”

This pisses Louis off, that his effort to be magnanimous was met with snark. Surely Zayn must know that Simon had had harsh words for him, and that Louis is only protecting him by saying otherwise.

“How's Gigi?” he says coolly.

“Um,” Zayn mutters. “Dunno. She's in L.A. Fine, I guess.”

“Not in London much, is she?”

“Nope,” Zayn says, heaving the word out in an exhale. “So, do I ask you how Liam is, now?”

“Please don't,” Louis says.

“Where is he, even?”

“Downstairs.” Louis folds his arms and leans against the door as he says this.

“What is that, you blockin’ me from goin’ in, like?” Zayn says with incredulity.

“ _What_? Zayn, don’t be a crazy person.”

“A _crazy person?_ Nice.”

“If I thought you were stupid enough to push me aside, storm into my house and run downstairs so you can take another swing at Liam, I wouldn’t let you on my property at all,” Louis says, as his anger gets the better of him. “I’d hand ‘er off to you outside the fuckin’ Tesco, or summat.”

Zayn looks at him expressionless for a moment, then laughs.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hit Liam,” he mutters. “‘Less he hits me first.”

“Liam isn’t going to hit you. Liam loves you,” Louis says, in a voice warped by hurt.

“No,” Zayn says, sliding his sunglasses up his head and staring into Louis’ eyes. “No, stuff that. If it weren’t for you holdin’ ‘im back every time, he’d ‘ave gotten in blows on me at the hospital, he’d have fought me outside the courthouse. I may have started it, but he was up for it. No, he don’t love me anymore, Louis. He loves _you_. He picked. _You_ picked. Hey,” he says, and taps hard on Louis’ chest. “ _It is what it is_ , right?”

Louis smacks his hand away, hard.

“You hit him first!” he shouts. “You lost his trust!”

“Aye, after he lost mine!” Zayn bellows. “I was doin’ the only thing I saw fit to do! He did me wrong! You don't _do_ what ‘e did, Louis! You don't go pokin’ at someone else's baby!”

“Stop,” Louis says, pained. “Please. Don't fuckin’ talk about it like that. Don't talk about _me_ like that!”

They breathe heavily for a moment.

“I wasn’t blocking you from comin’ in,” Louis says, exhaling. “You’re the one who doesn’t want to come in. So, fine. Take Mia and go.”

Zayn’s jaw tightens and releases.

“Whatever,” he says softly. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Have a safe trip,” Louis says, watching as he traipses down the stairs and out to the car. He feels a clench in his chest remembering that Mia is in that car, and about to travel away from him. He takes several deep breaths and returns to the house.

Liam’s in the kitchen, shining with sweat and drinking a revolting-looking protein shake straight from the blender. Louis observes him impassively.

“Hand her off?” Liam says, wiping his mouth.

Louis nods and approaches him. He pushes his back against the fridge and kneels in front of him, looking up, then begins to slide his joggers off his hips.

“Tommo,” Liam says in concern.

“Want it or not?” Louis says tiredly, stroking his cock through the fabric.

“You look upset,” Liam says.

Louis shakes his head. “Want it or not?” he says again, digging his nails into Liam’s thigh to steady himself.

“If you’re offering, but -- d’you want to take it to bed?”

“No,” Louis says, yanking his briefs off his arse and taking his cock in his mouth.

“Louis --”

Liam breaks off whatever he was going to say and lets out a long groan as Louis begins to suck at him.

Louis experiences various stimuli independently of each other, and as if from a long distance, like they travel down a hallway before hitting his brain. The floor is hard under his knees. His back is sore from last night, when the baby cried ceaselessly unless they held her at a certain angle and walked around bouncing her. There’s a subtle draft in the kitchen. Liam’s pubic hair is scratching his beard, and his cock tastes bitter.

Louis continues to suck him off eagerly despite all this, because he can’t seem to do anything right lately, but he can do this.

He works harder and harder on Liam, knuckling at his taint and stroking his thighs, dogged in his quest to make Liam come in his mouth. Liam grips at his hair, tugging but never quite yanking, much to Louis’ dissatisfaction. He wishes someone would tear his hair from his skull and slap him. He wants to hit and be hit. He wants to bleed like a man, from his face.

Liam moans helplessly and Louis presses his advantage, flicking his tongue over the slit of his cock and pressing him harder against the fridge with one strong, small hand. Liam tries to hand him a paper towel before he comes and Louis knocks it to the ground, instead swallowing his semen and then gagging, on the floor on his hands and knees, his eyes and throat burning.

“Louis,” Liam exclaims, pulling him to his feet by his arm. Louis laughs in a deranged way that makes Liam’s eyes flash with anxiety.

“I really hate Zayn, sometimes,” Louis confesses, grinning like it’s funny.

“What did he _do_? What did he say to you?”

“Turned me into this... _person_ , is what he did,” Louis says, his voice harsh and loud. “This bloke I barely even recognize. And I’ve ruined ‘im, too, haven’t I? Every time I talk to him lately, I’m exactly what 'e hates about me. I am... “ He drags in a breath. “ _Bitchy comments_ personified, now!”

“Louis,” Liam says mournfully. “Babe, _please_.”

“It isn’t too late for _you,_ you know,” Louis says, slightly hysterical. He wishes Liam would shake him, or something. “Might as well get out now, before you get in too deep with me, yeah?”

Liam takes him by the shoulders and does not shake him but instead steers him out of the kitchen, down the hall and to the sitting room. He forces Louis down onto the couch. Louis dimly registers that he disappears after this. He returns shortly with a glass of water.

“Please drink,” Liam instructs.

“I want a cigarette.”

“Drink the water.”

Louis obliges. He already feels more calm, having vented himself, but now he’s got the requisite embarrassment and guilt from doing so.

“Do you remember that you got like this last week?” Liam says, very gently. “When he took her? Louis, I think you’re just overwhelmed, and you don’t know how to deal with it.”

“I thought being pregnant would be the hardest part,” Louis says, his breath shaky. “I thought -- I dunno what I thought. That this would blow over in the press? That people would forgive me and leave us alone? That I’d go right back to my old self, that me body’d be straight back to normal and my hormones would all go away at once?”

“Harry was right, we should have made your placenta into capsules,” Liam mutters without a hint of irony, and the absurdity of this makes Louis laugh quite hard.

Liam takes Louis’ hands in his own. “Listen,” he says. “I know what’s going on. I understand. I know there’s shit that didn’t come home to roost before the baby was a reality, and now that she’s a bit older and we’re not staggering around like zombies quite so much, it’s like, okay, fuck, right, here’s all the shit we knew was coming, but --”

He sighs. Louis watches him, feeling safe in his love for him and comforted by the tightness of his grip.

“It wasn’t enough to know, was it?” Liam says. “Wasn’t enough to know that you were going to petition the court for that… parental whatever… and that Zayn would despise me for it, maybe for good reason, and that he’d take it out on you. Wasn’t enough to know he might get scared and stick us with the hard stuff in the very beginning, and it wasn’t enough to know that we were going to be torn apart by the rags. And you’re so tired, Louis. You were on a world tour when you were pregnant, alright?”

He smooths Louis’ fringe back off his sweaty forehead. Louis just looks at him.

“Don’t you remember how awful it was?” Liam says, studying his face. “Don’t you remember how I had to practically carry you offstage, a few times at the end? Don’t you remember that soundcheck you fainted in the middle of?”

“I think I blocked some of that out,” Louis mutters.

He does remember the latter. He didn't _faint_. It was deep into October, and he had gotten light-headed and sat down to have a sip of water. He woke groggily a few seconds later, with everyone gathered around him in concern. Harry and Liam took him to the green room while Sam stepped aside and rang for a nurse.

A pale-faced Liam had stood there, paralyzed with fear as Louis had exhaustedly repeated “I'm fine, lad, I'm fine.” Harry had been very calm and kind -- stroking his hair, pressing a gentle hand to his wrist to feel his pulse, then to his belly, right below his ribs, to make sure the baby was still moving around in him (she was, in those late days she always was).

Liam pulls him close, now. “I want you to go to bed and take a nap,” he says. “And when Mia’s back, I’m going to get up with her all that week. Alright? I’m banning you from tending to her. You’re wearing earplugs, or sleeping in the other room, or something.”

“No, no,” Louis says, anxious. “I’ll wake up anyway, and I won’t be able to sleep if I can’t hear her…”

“Take an Ambien. I can handle it. You need some good sleep, I’m dead serious. Because honestly, you’ve got me really worried about you.”

“Payno, I’m sorry,” Louis says softly, stroking his face. “I’m sorry. Don’t worry about me, love.”

“How can I not worry about you!” Liam cries. “Just _let_ me! For God’s sake! You can’t keep acting like this and thinking it’s better to play it off than it is to admit you’re not okay!”

“It’s selfish to not be okay!” Louis bellows. “I have you, I have a baby, a wonderful baby I love, who needs me!”

“Along with the end of all the normality in your entire life!” Liam shouts back. “It’s alright to _grieve_ for a bit, mate! I know Zayn is!”

Louis buries his face in his hands, pressing his fingers hard against his eye sockets. Behind them lingers a fearsome headache that he is only just beginning to feel.

“Our lives haven't been normal in six years, anyway,” he mutters.

This is the last thing he says to Liam before he goes upstairs to take the nap he’s been prescribed. Liam leaves him at the foot of the stairs, watching him with worry on his handsome face.

Louis is starting to think he’s right, that he’s losing his mind from lack of sleep. He hasn’t careened like this since 2013, when he and Zayn were so fed up with feeling like rats in a cage that they went on a week-long bender during the European leg and didn’t sleep more than an hour or two a night. That was the first time they had ever snogged, when they were laughing like maniacs on a balcony in Paris, shirtless because of how hot the drugs had made them and clinging to each other. The next day they pretended they hadn't meant it.

All that week they raised absolute hell for everyone around them, and hadn’t stopped until Paul had taken them aside and screamed at them that they could fuck up their careers with this shit, or possibly even kill themselves. Paul and Zayn never got along very well after that, but he and Louis were made that much closer by it. Sometimes Louis needs to be yelled at. He’s wondered before if Paul would have made him go home from OTRA, if he'd still been around, and if that would have been better for everyone.

Maybe not. Maybe he would have resented Zayn that much more.

Unfair as it may be, he can’t imagine any situation where he didn’t end up resenting Zayn; if he’d aborted their baby and recovered quietly in a hotel room, and then gotten up the next day and performed a concert while achingly aware of both his now-empty womb and Zayn’s absence on the stage.

If he had come home but not given it a go with Zayn, if he had moved into his mum’s house or even back to his own and wandered the halls, having all day to think about how he’d let down the fans and the band, having awkward conversations with his baby daddy and privately pining after Liam, who likely would have given up on him and moved on.

If he’d made a go of it with Zayn -- he always clenches his teeth thinking about this one, because all he can imagine is his own parents.

Louis climbs into bed. His head is beginning to pound, now, but the darkness of the room and the soft pillows ease that. 

He drifts off to sleep almost immediately, like Liam has flipped a switch in his brain by telling him he needed it.

 

*

 

Louis wakes hours later, completely disoriented. He wonders why, and then realizes his phone is ringing.

He snatches it up. “‘Lo?”

“Hey,” Zayn says.

Louis’ heart jumps into his throat. “Everything alright?”

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Zayn says, sounding hoarse. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to -- sorry --”

“It’s okay…” Louis rubs his eyes with the back of his hand and swallows. His mouth is very dry. He fumbles for water on the bedside table. “What is it? D’you need anything?”

“Did I wake you?”

“Um,” Louis mutters, sitting up and clapping the lights on. “Aye, I was catching up on some sleep.”

“Sorry.”

“No, I needed to get up anyway,” Louis says. He gets up and goes to his dresser, fetching the lone Marlboro 27 he had stashed away for a rainy day. He opens the balcony door and settles onto a chair, staring out over his dark neighborhood, the sprawling estates perched on rolling hills.

Zayn sighs in his ear. “This is stupid,” he says. “I shouldn't have called.”

“Why did you?” Louis says, lighting the cigarette.

“I'm sort of having an anxiety attack,” Zayn says, sounding embarrassed.

Louis blows out a lungful of smoke, growing worried. “Is she bein’ a handful?”

“I mean,” Zayn mutters, “she obviously misses you, or the both of you, but… I can soothe her, it just makes me anxious, I don't -- right now she's just lyin’ comfortable in her crib, asleep, and I'm lookin’ at her but my heart is racing and I'm just --

He sucks in air and Louis murmurs “shh, shh, it's alright,” and adjusts the phone against his ear.

“You're good with her, mate, you are,” he says intently. “I know how careful and serious you are about this. I don't worry about her with you, like, at all. I --

Louis takes in a breath.

“Besides my mum, you are the only person I trust completely with her and don't even worry about whatsoever,” he says. “And yeah, that includes Liam.”

Zayn is quiet.

“That does help,” he finally says, in a soft voice.

“Want me to stay on the phone with you?” Louis says. He knows Zayn’s anxiety attacks take a while to dissipate completely.

“If you want,” Zayn says. “I tried my mum and she's busy, so…”

“I can,” Louis says. “Long as you need.”

Zayn sighs. “Thanks. I really… thanks.”

He doesn't say anything for a while. Louis listens to him breathe while he smokes. His neighbor across the way is having a smoke, too, leaning on her back patio door, hands cupped against the wind.

“D’you ever picture horrible things happenin’ to her?” Zayn says.

Louis’ eyebrows knit in alarm.

“Not like you want them to,” Zayn immediately adds. “It's -- you know like, when you're on a high building or a bridge, and you can't stop thinkin’ about like, what if I threw my phone off? It's like that, but horrible things, like -- if I've got her goin’ up the stairs I think, fuck, what if I drop her? And I just panic and my heart starts going crazy and all I can picture is her fallin’ down the stairs. I know I won't, but I think it anyway.”

“I think that's just your anxiety, mate. We both know it isn't real.”

“You don't worry about her with me at all?” Zayn murmurs.

“Not at all,” Louis says quietly. He clears his throat. “I used to. I’ll be honest. Before she was here, and right after. It's just ‘cos -- I dunno. You hadn't proved to me yet you could handle it, and I was still angry with you...”

“Was?” Zayn says, and snorts.

“Hey, ceasefire.”

“Alright, ceasefire.”

“And you were still partying a lot and I just -- look… when I was still pregnant…” he shifts in his seat and takes another drag. “It was easy to think, ‘cos she was in me, that I was the only one who knew what was best for her. I thought I was the only one she was real for. And it turns out she wasn't real for any of us, yet, actually.”

“Good to hear you say that.”

“I'm not such an arrogant asshole that I can't say when I'm wrong.”

“Never said you were.”

“Anyway,” Louis mutters. “You're good with her. You're good with kids, I know that. You love her to pieces. I know that. I've known that since the first time you held her. So don't worry, alright? Maybe when you have those thoughts, snap a rubber band on your wrist, I dunno.”

“That might work,” Zayn says.

He pauses.

“I miss you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I miss… this. Bein’ friends, like, without rowing all the time.”

A lump rises in Louis’ throat, and his face gets hot.

“I miss you too,” he chokes out.

“I wish we hadn't hurt each other so bad,” Zayn says, his voice strained. “I wish Liam hadn't hurt me so bad. Every day, like, I wish that.”

“Me too,” Louis whispers.

“I hope it was worth it,” Zayn says, in a remote and detached way.

Louis swallows. “I love him.”

“I know you do, mate.”

“But she's _your_ baby.”

“I know she is.”

Louis ashes his cigarette and tugs his hoodie over his shoulders, shivering.

“I'll let you go,” Zayn says. “Sorry. Enjoy your free time.”

“Hey, look, call if you need me. And remember that you're good at bein’ a dad. Alright?”

It pains him to have to say this. He longs for a world in which Zayn felt safe enough with him anymore to have just admitted two months ago, _I’m sort of scared. I don’t know if I can do this,_ and they had been able to avoid all their recent heartache and painful custody mess.

“Thanks, Louis.”

“We've got counseling next week, remember.”

“Shit,” Zayn mutters. “Yeah. Fuck. Alright. See you.”

“See you.”

Louis sits there for a while after he hangs up, phone in his hand. Then he tosses the covers off and goes downstairs.

Liam is sprawled out in a bathrobe and boxers in the sitting room, watching ESPN and looking at his phone. Louis settles next to him, in the crook of his arm.

“I believe in Lebron,” Liam says, gesturing at the television. “I think he can take them there. I’ve got faith.”

Louis laughs. “You think _he’s_ got faith, though?”

“Of course! It’s his city!”

“What about that Christmas talk with Wade, huh?”

Liam flaps his hand dismissively.

“I dunno, mate,” Louis says, dropping his head to Liam’s chest. Liam strokes his hair. “I think it’ll be the Warriors.”

“Wanna bet?”

“I will bet you, like, ten grand on this one.”

“Big talk,” Liam says, impressed. “Mr I’m Not Even Much For Basketball.”

“I like bets, don’t I?”

Liam chuckles; Louis can feel it reverberate in his own ear. “You feel better? You seem better.”

“I do,” Louis admits. “Didn’t even dream. Just passed out.”

“D’you know what time it is?”

“Nope.”

“Just now ten,” Liam says in amusement.

“Ten!” Louis exclaims, thunderstruck. “I went to bed at four!”

“I know!”

“My sleep’ll be all fucked up now!”

“It’s already fucked up,” Liam says defensively. “And I didn’t want to wake you.”

“No, Payno, I’m glad you didn’t.”

Liam wraps his arm around Louis' shoulders, pulling him in tighter and resting his chin atop Louis' head. Louis turns his face to the side and lets his eyes close. He focuses on their breathing, trying to match it up, thinking of nothing else.

 


End file.
